Every year for Mr. Chick E’s birthday, I struggle mightily with what to get him. He is the man who wants for nothing. One year I kicked ass as a wife and got him an iPad. That’s it. That’s the only cool birthday present I can claim.
This year I decided to buy him a tent. You know, one of those things that people put up outside and sleep in? We don’t have a tent and he likes camping, so it seemed like a reasonable gift.
After said purchase I had this conversation with Chick A:
- Chick A: What did you buy Mr. Chick E for his birthday?
- Me: A tent.
- Chick A: Are you guys gonna go camping?
- Me: Um, no.
Camping is one of those things you either love or you hate. I don’t like bugs, or sleeping on rocks, or waking up to the sound of wild animals scavenging for food, or group bathrooms, or peeing outside, so camping isn’t really my thing. I’ve been camping exactly two times, described below:
1. Spring break my senior year of college in the Florida Keys. I can’t lie…this wasn’t terrible as far as camping goes. It was like tropical camping.
2. Bar Harbor, ME sometime post-college but pre-children. I have no idea when. The post-college but pre-children years have all blended together into one blissful, sleep and money filled, stress-free era. This trip, while entertaining due to the company (me, Mr. Chick E, and three of Mr. Chick E’s friends), was exactly why I hate camping. It rained, so that was fun. Nothing like sitting around a campfire while getting soaked from above. There was one group bathroom 75 miles away from our campsite. This part is pretty funny though. My parents had this tent in their attic for years, for as long as I could remember. So when talk of camping came up, I grabbed it for the trip. When we set it up at the campsite, it was probably 4 square feet. It was the smallest tent I have ever seen. Literally, a human adult would not fit in it. I still to this day have no idea why they had this miniature tent. Thankfully our friends had a big enough tent for us all to sleep in otherwise I would’ve had to have found a hotel to stay in. Wait. On second thought…I wish they didn’t have a tent big enough for us to to all sleep in. Dammit.
Now, at 32, with two kids of my own, I can think of nothing I’d rather do less than try to keep two kids fed, happy, and entertained while pretending to be homeless. But, having said that, camping is a right of passage for families. We all need those horrible camping stories to tell for years to come, so now that we officially have our own tent, we are one step closer. Stay tuned my friends. Camping blogs to follow.